


Alien - An Edward Blake Story

by mollybrew777



Series: Edward Blake [1]
Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Watchmen, Watchmen (2009), Watchmen (Comic), Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: Erotica, F/M, JDM, Jeffrey Dean Morgan - Freeform, Romance, Superheroes, erotic romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-08-26 16:53:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16685473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollybrew777/pseuds/mollybrew777
Summary: From the moment Rosemary Doan collides with the Comedian at the headquarters of Masks, Inc., her life takes a dramatic and exciting turn. No longer alone behind the corporation's mansion walls, she gives in to her desire for the swift and dangerous Blake, beginning a journey into the darkened maze of their hearts. She knows she shouldn't fall, but she has no choice, feeling deep inside that loving him is worth any risk if there's a chance she can make Edward Blake her own.





	1. Could You Be the Devil?

**Author's Note:**

> I love Edward Blake.  
> Got something to say about it?  
> Fight me! =D 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uf9Cs1JeC0c
> 
> Coming Soon: The tale of Rosemary and Edward continues in Every Sin - An Edward Blake Story - Book II

"C'mon, hows about a kiss." The man inclined toward his reluctant date as she held open her front door, the stench of hard liquor strong on his breath. "Just a little, tiny smooch and I'll leave you alone. I promise."

"No thanks." The woman pressed her palm against his chest and hung her head back. "I gotta go, work and all. Thanks a lot for the drinks, though." He made a precarious nudge forward, losing his hat as the short, blonde woman ducked under his arm and slid inside the door, closing it behind her with an abrupt slam. Her drunken date stumbled down the front steps as Rosemary shrugged out of her coat. She should probably go to bed. She'd had too much to drink to get any work done and the very last thing she needed was a nightcap, but...

Fuck it, she thought, pushing her reasoning mind aside. One more drink never hurt anybody.

Walking toward the dining room she noticed the warm glow of a lamp lighting up the usually darkened room. It was much too late for Lawson or any of the house staff to be awake, yet Rosemary sensed a presence there, something of a predator lying in wait. She slowed and quieted her steps, stopping next to the dining room's wide, arched entrance and cocking her head. She heard nothing, but the strong, forward energy of the unknown entity behind the wall gave rise to the fine tendrils of hair on the back of her neck. She lifted the hem of her skirt and reached for the onyx-handled knife strapped to her thigh and just as she readied herself to round the corner, a booming voice called out.

"You got plans or are you just gonna stand there holdin' that knife?"

Rosemary grimaced and shoved the blade back into its sheath before entering the room. "Eddie, what in the fuck are you doing here?"

"I'm drinking," he said, leaning his elbow on the dark wood bar and throwing back a slug of whisky. "And you have the look of a gal who should be doin' the exact same thing." Edward pulled another glass from the cabinet and filled both tumblers halfway to the rim. He strode toward her and handed her the drink, clinking it with his own before she downed hers in two long draws.

"So sweet, little Rosey had a date, huh? Damn, I was beginning to think you didn't like men. I thought maybe you, I dunno, figured out a way to fuck your books or something." Edward stuck his cigar in his mouth, taking a long drag then blowing the smoke directly into her face.

"You know that smells like ass, right?"

Edward ignored her and leaned his masked face in close. "I needed a place to hole up for a couple of months and Lawson said I could stay here. That means you have to be nice to me." He flicked her on the chin and licked his lips causing Rosemary's knees to go weak.

"Dear god, I shudder to think what in the hell that means." She regained herself and waved him aside with a loose gesture of her hand, grabbing the whisky and sitting down at the long table. She poured herself another drink then tipped the bottle in the man's direction.

Edward sat in the chair next to hers and spread his legs out wide. "Thanks. You know, you can be a pretty swell skirt when ya wanna be. Too bad you're such a fuckin' tease." The man crossed his arms, roaming his gaze over her with an accompanying smirk.

"Oh, I'm not a tease, Edward." Rosemary turned her full attention to his hulking figure as she filled his glass. "I just don't want to fuck you."

Edward howled. "Yeah, you can keep tellin' yourself that, honey, but it don't make it true."

Setting a scrutinizing eye on him, Rosemary studied the black, supple leather of his armor and its silver detailing, shimmering in the fractured light of the chandelier overhead. She imagined him undoing buckles and straps, peeling himself out of just enough gear to get down to business, all while wearing that cocky, cigar-wielding grin of his. The image made her snicker.

"What's so funny?" Edward asked, his dark mustache angling down at the ends in displeasure.

"I'm not laughing at you," Rosemary said with a shake of her head. "I just thought....I was thinking about..." She stalled her answer by pulling a cigarette pack from her pocket and putting one to her lips. Edward conjured a silver lighter from a compartment in his uniform and flipped the top, striking the flint and lighting the cigarette as it dangled from her full, dark-pink mouth. "I was just wonderin' how in the hell you got outta that get up," she said, gesturing toward him as she leaned back. "I thought maybe a can opener, a screwdriver and a crow bar?"

"I could sure show you," Edward returned, giving her a quick flick of his brows.

Rosemary got up from her chair. "As tempting as that sounds, we have a meeting in six hours; one you'll apparently be present and accounted for. Such a refreshing change from your usual absence. Lawson will be pleased." She gave an exaggerated yawn and stretch. "It's been a long night. I'm going to bed. Do you have a room yet?"

Edward stood with her, his dark eyes burning as he bent down, as if coming in for a kiss. "I sure do, Pussycat," he said. "The one right next to yours."

The alarm rang at 6 a.m. and Rosemary pounded on the top of the round, metal clock to hush its jingling cry. She sat up and rested her forehead on the palm of her hand. Her brain screamed with a hangover and she reached to her bedside table to pop a couple of Excedrin, down a half a glass of water, and think about the day ahead.

Lawson had called a meeting of all the masks at 9 a.m. sharp, and Rosemary would have the task of seeing to every one's needs, recording the meeting minutes and answering every question they threw at her on topics ranging from the presidential cabinet to the recent military victories in some tattered, Asian country she would thankfully never visit.

She squeezed her eyes shut tight then opened them wide, readying herself to climb from bed until she remembered Edward was asleep in the next room. She looked toward the wall and groaned as she fell back onto her pillow and covered her head.

Rosemary hated complications and the presence of the Comedian for the next two months was going to be one huge, tentacled complication. She'd developed a crush on him the first time they'd collided, here at the mansion that served as MI's international headquarters. She'd had that day's newspaper propped open on a book, and wasn't paying attention, when she rounded a corner and bumped squarely into Edward Blake's broad chest.

"What the fuck?" he'd said, narrowing his eyes and wiping the ash that had fallen from his cigar onto the front of his uniform. Rosemary had been startled by his presence, taken aback at his audacity and utterly captivated by the lot of him. She adopted a veneer of disdain.

"My thoughts exactly," Her insides seized and she felt a door slam shut and lock somewhere inside her. "And who the hell are you?" She had seen enough photographs to know name of the muscled, dark-haired man, but she gave nothing away.

The Comedian had readied an angry remark when the CEO of MASKS, Inc., Brenton Lawson, intervened. "Rosemary Doan, this is the Comedian. He's one of our new consultants."

"Consultants?" she'd remarked, giving Blake's side-burned face the once over. "So that's what we're calling them now? Thugs might be more fitting."

"Rosemary!"

It had taken Lawson eight months to nab the Comedian for his brood of high-profile vigilantes and Rosemary had been instrumental by finding out everything she could about the mysterious masked hero. His real identity was secret, but it hadn't taken her long to find the files in some dank, underground office in D.C., naming him as Edward Morgan Blake, born 1918, Philadelphia, PA. Most of the information she'd gathered about him read like a tragic, cautionary tale disguised as a picture of the American Dream--victimized child becomes small-time hood, then masked crime-fighter, finally rising to the ranks of venerated soldier and government operative, rubbing elbows with presidents and hobnobbing with all the best people. Despite his success, Rosemary imagined he'd had to fight every day of his life and she developed a deep and abiding compassion for the man, and that was all it was...until the photographs; she'd found pictures from Edward's early days with a group of Masks calling themselves the Minutemen, all the way up to still captures of his most recent and decorated military service. There was no denying the handsome man looked dangerous, with his eyes shining and his stubbled cheeks dimpled by a grin laden with temptation.

But that didn't matter to Rosemary. She had wanted him instantly.

"Apologize to Mr. Blake for being rude." Lawson had crossed his arms and looked at her over his dark-rimmed glasses, his pale blue eyes hard and his foot tapping in the harsh rhythm of an impatient father.

Rosemary shot a daggered look at her short, gangly boss and Edward laughed. "Yeah, Rosey, tell me you're sorry like a good little girl." He stuck his cigar in his leering mouth and leaned back holding his hands out to the side in expectation.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Blake," she'd said, tilting her head and plastering on a syrupy expression.

His dark brows angled inward and he bowed his head toward her, causing her to take a step back. "I think you're lying, Sugar, but you sure do it awful sweet." He gave her a wink and Rosemary nearly keeled over.

She'd only seen him one more time in the six months he'd been with the firm—at an MI banquet held in honor of their highest paying clients. They'd paraded all their crime fighters in front of their affluent clientele, and since that night, Edward had become the biggest draw of them all. He made the company and himself a lot of money, but the man was a wild card. Rosemary was tasked with coordinating schedules and she could never promise the Comedian would be available for any job, regardless of the client or the size of their bank account. Edward checked in every other week by phone, rarely letting Rosemary discuss jobs or business of any kind until he'd told her a half a dozen dirty jokes and propositioned her at least that many times.

"I have a fantastic gig for you," she'd said once. "It's in North Carolina. On the coast. Apparently some local guy has gotten a little too close to our client's wife and he wants to send him a messa..."

"Hey, ya wanna come with me? You ever been fucked on the beach?" He'd laughed and before she could respond he'd said, "Wait, I forgot who I was talkin' to. Poor little Rosey. You've probably never even been fucked with the lights on. Ya know, a man like me could really broaden your horizons."

"Eddie, the day I come to you to broaden my horizons is the day I give up. Now about that job..."

"You're just being stubborn. You want me and we both know it."

Damn him.

Rosemary flung the covers off, causing the heavy edge of the bedspread to catch her water glass and send it crashing to the floor. "Fucking hell," she said and went to her knees to pick up the sharp, shattered pieces. She jumped when a hard bang resounded against the wall.

"Hey! Can ya keep it down over there?!" Edward's bellows were barely muffled by the barrier between them. "What the fuck are you doing anyway? Getting yourself off?" He quieted for a moment before speaking again, the sound of his smile caressing his words. "If that's the case, I'll be right over."

Rosemary bit her bottom lip, unable to keep her body from warming at the thought. She picked up the shards of glass and her mind began to open to the possibilities. God, if Lawson ever found out she'd be out on the streets. He'd made that clear from early on and with good reason; absolutely no fraternizing. Fuck, Rosemary hadn't fraternized in so long she figured she'd probably forgotten how.

But Edward Blake made her want to remember.

At risk to her job and at great peril to her long-guarded heart, Rosemary made a decision.

"Fuck you, Edward," she said seductively, turning and angling her head toward the wall. He laughed out loud and she imagined him as he laid in bed, covered just up to his waist by the white, rumpled sheet. He murmured a response, his voice low and gritty with a hint of feral.

"Ah my sweet, little Rosey. I knew if I was patient you'd come around to my way of thinkin'."

"And what way of thinking is that?" she said.

"Oh you're gonna find out," he teased her, causing her to writhe a little as she knelt on the floor. "And I'm gonna show ya. No need to worry your pretty little head about that..."


	2. Lead Me into the Light

"...and the second quarter has exceeded even our highest expectations, coming in at three times over last quarter's profits—and you all are the sole reason for our pinnacled success!"

Resounding self-congratulations erupted from the small audience and Brenton Lawson opened his arms wide, nodding his simpering head in mock humility. Rosemary rolled her eyes.

Her modest desk sat at the back of the converted ballroom, the space still adorned in the reds, golds and ornate woods of a long ago era. Marching lines of folding chairs had been set up and seated in them were all the crime fighting elite the world had to offer; every single one in the big, back pocket of Brenton Lawson and MASKS, Incorporated.

All of them but one, that is. The Comedian. He didn't belong to anybody.

Rosemary tapped the eraser of her pencil against her notepad and crossed her legs, wondering why Edward hadn't shown up to this morning's meeting. Her thoughts wandered back to her bed and she imagined him there, waiting for her in some grand stage of undress and gesturing for her to join him. She bit the inside of her mouth and lost herself in her imaginings until a shadow at the doorway captured her attention.

Edward leaned against the doorframe, chewing on a cigar and staring directly at her. He stood upright and approached her in silent steps, his heavy leather boots not even sounding a scuff across the shiny, walnut floor. He knelt down facing her, putting one hand on her thigh and his elbow on her knee, coming in close as if to tell her a secret. He whispered to her, his head inclined and his cigar bobbing as he spoke. "I need a light."

Turning to his masked face, Rosemary reached for the top, left-hand drawer of her desk. She kept her movements slow and didn't take her eyes from his, even when her breasts brushed against his arm left bare by the tight, black undershirt he wore. Edward lifted his eyebrow. She had given him a little more than he'd expected and the small glimmer of surprise in his eyes delighted her. She fumbled around in the drawer much longer than she needed before grabbing the matches and leaning to the back of her chair again.

"Found 'em," she whispered.

Edward nudged her legs uncrossed with his elbow and her breath caught in her throat. He chuckled and started a crawling ascent of his hand up her skirt. "Can you light this for me?" he said, twitching the cigar around in his mouth. "I've kinda got my hands full at the moment." He caressed the inside of her thigh and she had to bite her lip to squelch a groan.

Then she remembered the meeting.

Rosemary sat up straight and looked toward the crowd. She half expected to see every person in the room watching them, including her boss, but no one seemed aware of their presence. Still, Rosemary's eyes darted around before returning to Edward's in a nervous, pleading gaze.

He stopped moving his hand and let it rest soft and gentle against her thigh as he spoke in a hush. "Shhhh....it's ok, honey. No one's lookin'." He brushed his other hand around her waist and pulled her a little closer, tickling his fingers against the bare flesh of her legs. "Now light my cigar before I fuck you with it right here in front of God and everybody." Edward's mustache lifted in a grin and Rosemary flicked the sulfur tip of a match, the pop and hiss of the flame reminding her of a snake.

He puffed on his cigar as she lit it, traveling his hand all the way up and grasping Rosemary between the legs. He lingered his touch for just a moment, and then withdrew, leaving her to lift her hips in desperate pursuit of his hand.

"Thanks for the light," he whispered, sliding from underneath her hem and standing so she got eyeful of the bulge straining at the crotch of his black pants. Rosemary's face flushed hot and Edward's eyes narrowed behind his mask. He headed out of the room, each broad step laden with a raw, sensual power that riveted her gaze to his retreating form. He turned back toward Rosemary just outside the door and ran his hand up his thigh, staring at her as he grabbed his cock and massaged it before dropping his hand to his side.

Then he tilted his head indicating for her to follow him.

Mrs. Roe stopped her before she could get out the door. "Miss Doan, the table is all set and everythin's ready for when the meetin's over."

"That's fantastic, Rachel, thank you." She put a light hand on the woman's shoulder and spoke low. "Do you think you can take care of lunch? I'm going to go lie down."

"Are ya feelin' poorly, missy? Well you pay this no mind, I can take care of it, all right."

"Thank you. I might be out the rest of the day, can you tell Mr. Lawson I'll be in my room?"

The meeting began to break up and the plump, older woman nodded her head and pushed at Rosemary's back indicating for her to go. She stepped out of the room and turned her head both directions, spotting a rounded arc of smoke at the far end of the long hallway. She took a deep breath, trotting toward him and leaving Lawson and the meeting further and further behind her.

What the fuck am I doing? she thought. Oh, this is a mistake. A terrible, dangerous, awful mista...She rounded the corner and for the second time in six months, she bumped right and squarely into Edward Blake.

"Excuse me, miss," he said, a tinge of wolf in his gentleman's smile, "You really don't have to keep running into me in order to get me to touch you. All you have to do is ask...nicely." He placed his cigar in his mouth with two fingers, curling his lips around the end and hollowing his cheeks as he took a deep drag.

She lifted her chin, bringing her face in closer. "I'm going up to my room and we can either continue this conversation up there, or you can stay down here and hang with the show ponies. It makes no never mind to me."

Rosemary side-stepped around him, mounting the deep-red, carpeted staircase that led to the second floor. She made it up three steps before the man was behind her, lifting her off of her feet and holding her to his chest. Her head fell back, her cheek stopping to rest against to his.

"Goddamn, you're a feisty woman," he said, ascending the stairs two at a time. He turned her over in his arms and lifted her up, flinging her over his shoulder and giving her a light smack on the ass before grabbing a handful and squeezing.

"Put me the fuck down, Eddie, someone's going to..."

"Nope," he said, laughing and hitching his arm around the backs of her knees. "You might try to escape. Of course, that could be fun too." He rounded a corner and strode down a long hall, banging her door open and not easing her feet to the floor until the door was closed and locked behind them.

He held her against him, his eyes tinged by a slow, pervading shadow darkening the edges. His breath came deep and rhythmic, moving the hard muscles of his chest and abdomen against her and causing her to flutter open. He kept his cigar held tight between his teeth and brought one hand up to her face, caressing her cheek before dropping his fingers to unbutton her shirt. "I'm gonna strip you to tail and whiskers, Pussycat, then we'll see just how feisty you really are."

Rosemary teased her tongue along her lips and raised both eyebrows. "You may just be in for the surprise of your life."

"You got alotta big talk for such a nice, little girl," he said, untucking her open shirt and gliding it down her arms. He curled his fingers into the waistband of her skirt and tugged her forward, removing his cigar from his mouth.

She yelped a little as their bodies collided but she kept her tongue and her wits sharp. "And you talk an awful damn lot for a man who could be doing something so much more productive with his mouth."

Her brazenness silenced him and he stared down at her, his gaze soon catching fire with lust. He landed his mouth on hers, slipping his tongue between her lips and circling a forearm around her waist so he could lift her up and carry her to the bed. He tossed his cigar into the ashtray as she embraced his shoulders, wrapping her legs around him and bringing his body with her as he lowered her back onto the mattress. He made short work of the rest of her clothing, stripping his tank but leaving on his pants to torture her.

Her hands and mouth explored every part of him she could reach, feeling his skin grow slick and hot under her touch. She went for the closure on his pants as his fingers slipped between her legs and she pushed against his touch and groaned. Rosemary didn't bother taking off his pants, she just reached inside the open zipper, stroking him as she pulled his hardened length free. He kissed her again, leading with his tongue as she dragged his tip between her dripping wet lips. He removed his fingers from inside her and broke their kiss, sliding the coated digits deep into her mouth. She gave a long lick to the underside of his fingers and he clenched his jaw as he she lined him up with her entrance and he thrusted hard inside her.

Edward repositioned her and wrapped her legs around his back, settling his hands in a light touch on her sides. He stroked his calloused thumbs over the bottom of her rib cage and captured her gaze, his brown eyes as soft and deep as his movements inside her.

The connection Rosemary felt in that moment overwhelmed her. A part of her wanted to escape, and keep on running, far away from this man who stirred such feelings of want, and pleasure, and tenderness inside her. She tried to look away but Edward took hold of her face before she could avert her eyes. "Don't go shy on me now, Pussycat," he said. He kissed her soft and sweet as he rested his full weight into the cradling curve of her body. Her tender moans played over his lips and he reached a hand for one of her breasts, caressing her until a knock at the door interrupted them.

"Rosemary?" Lawson spoke from the other side of the door. "Are you all right?"

She twisted her mouth away from Edward's and strained her neck to lift her head. "I'm not feeling very well," she managed to squeak out.

"Well, I really need you down here."

Edward huffed and settled his gaze on Rosemary, his countenance soon filling to the brim with mischief. He started his mouth in a greedy path all the way down her body, pausing to wink at her before diving his face hard between her spread legs. She groaned aloud, arching her back and digging her shoulder blades into the bed.

"My god girl, you sound awful." Lawson said, concern playing in his voice, but he had something more on his mind than his secretary's wellbeing. "Have you seen the Comedian?" Stopping his movements, Edward stared up at her. He kept his lips against her flesh, stiffening his tongue and delving it inside her, causing her whole body to shiver.

"I haven't seen him since last night." Rosemary ran her words together in quick succession, forcing them from her before her voice could give way. Edward patted and grasped her hip before lifting his chin and resting it on her sex.

"Get rid of him." He only mouthed the words but she understood every one perfectly.

"Brent, I really need to get some rest."

Lawson said nothing, his exit told only through his receding footsteps down the carpeted hallway. Rosemary placed the soles of her feet flat on Edward's shoulders and leveraged herself in a hard grind into his face. She entwined one hand into his hair and grasped the wooden headboard with the other. He slid two rough, curved fingers inside, licking her sweet flesh and pounding into her until she cried out the only name in the world she could recall...

"Edward..."


	3. You Open My Eyes

“Now Rosemary, what I’d like you to do at the ball tonight is be nice to the men. You know, laugh at their jokes, mingle, dance with them. Tell them how handsome and masculine they look in their costumes.” Brenton Lawson looked over his glasses at his secretary as she deposited an armload of liquor bottles on top of the bar. “In other words, be friendly.”  
“Ha! Friendly?” Edward chimed in from atop a ladder as he changed lightbulbs on the chandelier. “That girl’s about as friendly as a tromped on rattlesnake.”  
Rosemary flipped him off without glancing in his direction, stocking the bottles underneath the bar with loud clinking sounds. “I am friendly. I’m just not interested in stroking male egos. They’re like bottomless black holes with that bullshit. Case in point.” She gestured at Edward as he clomped down each rung, stopping halfway when she indicated toward him.  
“I got somethin’ you can stroke right here…”  
“Will you two stop?” Lawson groaned. “I swear, I’ve been listening to you banter back and forth all day and it’s getting tedious and you’re giving me a headache.” The man pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes in a dramatic display of pain.  
“So who’s gonna be friendly to the women?” Rosemary asked as Edward approached the bar. He grabbed one of the bottles from her hand and twisted off the top.  
“Me,” he said, taking a long swig before turning a wide smile in her direction.  
Rosemary leaned against the gold railing, her expression betraying not even a trace of her envy. “God help those poor, unfortunate women.”  
Edward slammed the bottle back on the bar and turned his head toward Lawson, pinching Rosemary’s ass when he was sure the man wasn’t looking. “Don’t worry, Rosey. My cock is all yours.” She batted his hand away, setting a fake glare on him as her eyes sparkled.  
“Oh dear lord,” Brent dropped his hand from his face and gave a loud huff. “I’m going to go get ready and I suggest the two of you do the same. Can you please, please behave yourselves tonight? No snotty back and forth. No sexual innuendos. Remember…we’re what now?” He cupped his hand over his ear waiting for Rosemary to answer.  
“One big, happy family,” she forced the words out with feigned enthusiasm.  
“Yeah, speakin’ of that. Did you know in most states you can fuck your first cousin and it’s perfectly legal?” Edward said. “I mean, you may have a kid with an extra arm or a damn, deformed head or something, but...” He elbowed Rosemary’s arm lightly. “Whatd’ya say, cuz? One big, happy fuckin’ family?” They both laughed, sending Lawson stomping out of the room, throwing his hands in the air and cursing.  
“Brent, wait,” Rosemary called out after him before turning to Edward. “See what you did? He’s about to have some sort of fit.” Edward bent back, making sure the boss was far out of sight before grabbing Rosemary up and nibbling at her neck.  
“I think he knows,” he said between tender nips to her skin.  
“There’s no way he knows.” She draped her arms around him, kissing the side of his head before wriggling out of his grasp. “If he knew, I’d be out of a job and you’d be…” she put her hands on her hips, “…you’d still be right here because you make him an obscene amount of money. In a way he’s kinda your pimp.”  
With a quick lift of his eyebrows Edward grabbed her up, towing her to the closet and yanking the string to flick on the dim, overhead light. “Well, you’re in luck because I’m runnin’ a sale today, Pussycat.” He kissed her lips, resting his hands on her shoulders and guiding her in a gentle push down to her knees. “I’ll let you suck my dick for free.”  
Rosemary gazed up at him and dragged her tongue over the crotch of his pants. He reached down to caress her cheek as she unsnapped the button and slid down the zipper. “That’s a bargain, Comedian,” she whispered over his bared cock.  
A shiver claimed his body as she glided him into her mouth. He entwined his fingers in her hair and tightened his grip, holding her head still as he rolled his hips and pressed himself all the way to the back of her throat. “And it’s all for you,” he murmured as she constricted around him. “All for my good, little Rosey.”

 

 

Rosemary clipped on her last red, crystal earring as a knock sounded on her door. “Are you ready?” Lawson called out from the other side. The woman took a final glance in the mirror, smoothing the shimmering red and black diamond-patterned dress over her hips and halfway down her thighs to the hem. She bent her leg, clad in a high, black-leather boot, and checked her profile, sliding her fingers in her hair and lifting her blonde mane before allowing it to cascade back down over her shoulders.  
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she mumbled to herself.  
“Oh Tilly Tea, you look ravishing.” Lawson used the nickname he’d bestowed on her when she was a kid and Rosemary tilted her head and smiled. Her boss bowed at the waist, kissing the woman’s hand then holding it between both of his as he stared at her. “I know you are aware of how important tonight is.”  
“I know, Brent. I told you I’d be friendly, mill around, compliment the guys. I get it.”  
“That’s not all. I need you to do something else, and not just tonight.” Lawson pulled her closer and whispered. “You must start being nicer to Eddie Blake. He’s the bread and butter of this operation. If we lose him we’ll have to sell out to Veidt and neither one of us wants that.”  
“And what do you suggest I do? Ya want me to fuck him?”  
“Don’t be crass,” Lawson said with an astute frown. “And no, I do not want you to sleep with him. I know you two have some weird, sexually charged…whatever…”  
You don’t even know the half of it, Rosemary thought.  
“…but he’s going to get tired of it if you don’t do something to back it up, and that’s not going to happen, so you need to just cool it. He won't be here much longer. Be nice. Be cordial. But keep your distance.”  
“How am I supposed to keep my distance when his room’s right next to…”  
Lawson pointed in her face. “Figure it out.”  
No further words passed between them before Lawson hitched her arm into his and led her toward the staircase. As they were about to emerge on the high landing, putting themselves on display for all of the consultants of MASKS, Incorporated, Brenton Lawson gave Rosemary one final instruction, “Now smile, Tilly, as though your life depends on it.”

 

 

“Well my goodness, little missy, you just get purtier and purtier every time I see you.” Tom Cadence bent his towering height toward Rosemary, giving her a kiss on the cheek and remaining there with his eyes locked on hers.  
She repositioned his black, ten-gallon hat on his head and patted his face. “I see you’ve gone with black now instead of white. I like it. Makes you look…dastardly.” She wiggled her eyebrows and flung back her head, both of them laughing loudly as he stomped his foot.  
“Your laugh is like sweet music to this cowboy’s ears, Miss Rosemary. You should come to Houston sometime. I’ll show you the town, we’ll have a big steak dinner. Who knows what might happen underneath all those big, Texas stars.” Despite the homey, welcoming expression on the man’s face, he licked his lips when his eyes dropped to the peeking furrow of the woman’s cleavage.  
“Now you know that’s against the rules, Spur.”  
The fair-skinned man returned his eyes to Rosemary’s and he laughed again. “Is there somethin’ in Lawson’s dumb rulebook that says we can’t do a little rug cuttin’?” Tom crouched a little and twisted his hips, pointing his forefingers out to the sides as Rosemary twittered with laughter.  
“C’mon, Cowboy. Let’s show ‘em how it’s done.”  
He pulled her into the wide expanse of the ballroom, lifting her feet a few inches off the floor and spinning her around and around. The music blared and the few other couples who were dancing parted for them, or got out of the way entirely, when Tom and Rosemary whisked by.  
“How ya like my dancin’?” the cowboy asked, shifting her from side to side, letting her feet barely touch the ground.  
“Very…..athletic,” she returned, wishing for a tidal wave, or an earthquake, or an exploding bomb to save her from the clutches of this good-natured fool.  
Turns out it was Edward Blake who came to save her.  
“I’m cutting in, Cowpoke.”  
Tom and Rosemary both looked at the Comedian, his large hand resting atop the lanky Texan’s shoulder. “Sorry, no can do. Little lady’s dancin’ with me. You’ll just have to wait your turn.”  
Edward squeezed the man’s shoulder, leaning in and whispering something in the Southerner’s ear. The cowboy set Rosemary lightly on her feet, looking down at her before passing her over into the other man’s arms and clomping off.  
“What did you say to him?” Rosemary asked, relief lightening the burden in her voice.  
“I just told him that I doubted his wife Vivian would appreciate him asking another woman out on a date.” Edward shrugged. “It comes in handy being someone who knows everyone.”  
“My hero,” she leaned her head back, smiling up at him as she fluttered her lashes.  
“I’ll be expecting payment tonight for my heroism, carrying on well into the wee hours of the morning. I’m thinkin’ a replay of that closet scenario for starters.”  
Rosemary hung her head. “Speaking of that…”  
“Oh god, what now?” Edward’s body curved into hers and he lowered his face so he could look into her eyes. “What is it?”  
“Lawson. Our back and forth today got to him, I guess, he says I’m supposed to be nicer to you but remain distant and cordial.”  
“You’re a fucking adult, Rosemary, tell him you’re going to do whatever you want.”  
“It’s not that simple, Edward.” Rosemary knitted her eyebrows and her hand tightened around his.  
“Yes it is. Fuck it, I’ll tell him. If he wants to fire you and kick you out, then I’ll go too. I don’t need this fuckin’ place.”  
“No!” The couple nearest to them on the dance floor turned their masked faces to look, and Rosemary’s cheeks flushed. She lowered her voice. “MI is in trouble. Big trouble. Lawson cheated the wrong client, some hot-shot banker from Tulsa. The guy’s tied up our money, our available assets have dwindled and Adrian Veidt, the fucking vulture, he thinks he can swoop in, payoff this asshole whose got Brent by the balls and just add MASKS to his growing conglomerate of companies. I can’t let that happen, Edward. As much of a conniving bastard as Lawson is, he’s all the family I have and I owe him.”  
Rosemary’s heart pounded in her chest and she bit down hard on her bottom lip. No questions came from Edward, but she could tell by his face that what she’d said meant nothing to him. He didn’t care about MI, or Lawson, or the company’s plight, and she began to wonder if he cared anything about her.  
“Nothing has to change, Edward. Not really,” Rosemary frowned.  
“I know. That’s the fucking problem. I’ve been pretending I’m not fucking you for two months and now you want me to pretend like I don’t want to fuck you. Totally logical adult behavior.”  
A small, open part of her heart seized at his tone and a wall went up between them. She matched his frustration with a display of her own. “Unless you want to choose the alternative and not fuck me at all.”  
Edward tightened his grip around her waist and stared down at her, his dark eyes growing hollow. “So you’re willing to end this before it even starts?” he asked.  
She longed to scream out her answer—that she wanted nothing between them to end, that she didn't want him to go, because he made her feel safe, and whole and not so alone. And that she had cared for him long before ever laying eyes on him in the flesh and being with him these last couple of months had only made that grow…and every single bit of it scared her practically to death. But the fear was too much and Rosemary replied with little more than a distracted shrug. “End what?”  
Edward stopped moving.  
He looked into her eyes, a strange sadness touching his expression for a moment before he forced a wide, angled grin. He stepped away from her, disengaging her from his embrace and walking away in long strides, leaving her standing in the middle of the dance floor alone.


	4. Could You Be An Angel?

Edward removed his mask and tossed it on a cluttered tabletop, picking up a half-filled bottle of whiskey and taking a long swig. He eyed a slow-paced Rosemary as she walked toward the door of the ballroom, keeping her eyes focused straight ahead.  
“G’night, Brent. Great party,” she said to her boss as he stood behind the bar.  
“Sleep off that hangover, Tilly, Mrs. Roe will be needing help tomorrow.”  
Rosemary indicated back with a wave, exiting the room before calling out as her voice receded away with her steps. “Night, Eddie.”  
Lawson looked over his glasses, nodding toward the empty door with approval. Edward figured the man chalked up Rosey’s cold demeanor toward him as obedience of the new rule to keep her distance, and the self-satisfied look on the man’s face made Edward want to throttle him. The Comedian imagined going across the narrow bar and snapping his scrawny neck before the little weasel even had a chance to figure out what’d hit him. Just quick and clean and done…but Edward stopped himself.

“I know Brent’s an asshole,” Rosemary had said to him one night as they lay embracing one another in the dark. “Believe me. I know him better than anyone and he’s awful, and thoughtless and downright wrong most of the time.” She had raised her hand to Edward’s face and he lost himself in her tenderness. He knew it was a trap, those soft feelings she had for him; nothing she set on purpose nor with any grand design on capturing him, but the effect was still the same.  
“Just try to ignore him, huh? For me?”  
Edward groaned, reaching over her and grabbing his cigar and lighter from her nightstand. She lifted her head to kiss the hollow of his throat as he passed above her and Edward stopped, looking down into her shadowed face before plopping onto his back. He had no fucking idea why Rosey stuck by that man. Some sense of loyalty or guilt or fucking father-figure, psychobabble bullshit that everyone bought in to nowadays. The truth was, Lawson needed her far more than she needed him, and the fucker had convinced her she would practically shrivel up and die if she left the confines of MI. He ruled her and he ruled her life, and Edward hated him for it.  
“All right. But for you, NOT for him.” He’d lit his cigar then, and Rosey had let out a long, relieved sigh and kissed his cheek.  
“Thank you,” she’d said. “I mean, what would be the fun of squashing a bug for such a big, strong soldier like you?” Rosey had cuddled toward him, draping her leg over his body and teasing her fingertip into the dark, smooth hair on his chest.  
“I already said I wouldn’t kill the bastard.” Edward closed his eyes and smiled as Rosemary’s hand smoothed a path down his abdomen. She kissed across his shoulder and licked his neck, nipping at him as she murmured against his skin, “I know,” she’d said, her warm breath and the descent of her hand making his cock twitch. “Now I’m thanking you…”

“She’s a nice girl, isn’t she?” Lawson set down a second bottle of whiskey and two glasses, his words and the clinking sounds drawing Edward toward the bar and away from his thoughts.  
“Who, Rosey?” Edward shrugged. “Yeah, she’s a real peach. Funny as hell too. She’s certainly made me feel right at home.” Edward wanted to relate every detail of the time he had banged her right smack dab in the middle of Lawson’s big, four-poster bed, but he just kept his mouth shut and smiled wide.  
Pouring drinks, Brent stared at the much larger Blake and let out a sigh. “She hasn’t had the easiest time of it, ya know.”  
Edward stopped midway through a swig of whiskey, swallowing hard and lowering the bottle. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know anything of what Lawson was getting ready to tell him. Despite his rift with her earlier in the evening, he was fucking crazy for Rosey, and he didn’t need those feelings turning into something else because of some terrible tragedy that had befallen her.  
God, that was the last thing he needed…  
But Edward listened anyway.  
“Tilly has been with me since she was eight years old.” Lawson nursed a glass of whisky as his eyes glazed over with the past. “Her dad Ray, we had been friends for a long time and I was godfather to both of his kids. Rosemary June Doan and James Keelin Doan.”  
Hm, Edward thought. Rosey had never mentioned she had a brother.  
“Ray came to me one night with the children in tow,” Lawson finished off his drink and poured himself another. Edward thought he spied something in the man’s face, something of guilt or regret, but the look was lost as Lawson closed his eyes and took another deep draw from his glass. When he spoke again, the end of his words bent and fell as the liquor started to take hold. “He’d killed someone in a drunken rage, some guy who’d said the wrong thing at the wrong time, and Ray was going on the run. Their mother had died a year earlier, I don’t remember from what, but he wanted me to take in both kids.”  
Lawson wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and a hint of anger tinged his voice. “Now how in the hell was I supposed to take care of some eight-year-old girl AND a baby? I had just started MASKS and I had no woman around to take up the slack. All I had was this house and a dream.” Lawson made a sweeping gesture, indicating their surroundings then grasped his glass back tight in his hand. “I sent Ray away with James.” The man shook his head. “Rosemary chased them down the driveway when her dad left with that boy. I’d never heard anyone scream like that. There was something of a trapped, tortured animal in the sound. We got the news a few years later that her father had died, but there was never any word of what happened to James. Rosemary stopped trying to find him when she kept hitting dead ends.” Lawson downed another drink. “So much loss for someone so young. The whole thing was just horrendous for her, but I knew she’d get over it eventually. Life is rarely fair as we both know. We all lose things along the way and it’s always what we love the most. One just has to pick up and move along.”  
Edward nodded. He wanted to tell the man he’d heard enough. In fact, what Lawson had told him explained everything about Rosey and the way she seemed to stumble blindly through the maze of the world around her, craving direction and trying to please.  
He’d known from the moment she’d bumped into him that she was turned differently than other women. She was sad down to her bones, and that tender fragility buried underneath her mask of order and attitude had ignited something within him. He’d wanted to protect her; to build a million tall, stone walls between her and the world so nothing could ever hurt her again.  
He should have fucking run right then.  
Lawson broke into Edward’s thoughts, doom sounding around the edges of his words. “Then something else happened the summer after she turned fifteen.”  
Edward braced himself.  
“She was home from school for break. Now mind you, Rosey had always been a good girl. I mean let’s face it, she’s far too studious for men to have ever really been much attracted to her, and the extra sand in the hourglass certainly doesn’t help.”  
The Comedian clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes but Lawson didn’t see. This asshole was going to be lucky if he made it through the night, Edward’s words of promise to Rosey be damned.  
“Anyway, it was 1947 and my roster was full of a rag tag bunch of ex-soldiers and street hoodlums. Rosey would always work through the summer in the business. She took to it quite well. She’s always been smart as a whip, that one, even if she didn’t use her head sometimes.” Lawson sloshed down another drink and pulled up a barstool, planting himself on it as he swayed on his feet. “I had a vigilante in the line-up, called himself Striker. His real name was Peter…something…Peter Raleigh, I think. Went by the street name Mint.”  
Edward’s ears perked up. He knew Mint Raleigh. He had hung out with him on the streets before turning his career aspirations from petty criminal to masked vigilante. Mint was fucking bad news. He’d loved torturing cats and looking up little girl’s dresses when he was a teenager. Edward had just turned his head most of the time, but never his back. Mint was not to be trusted.  
“You know him?” Lawson lurched forward a little, sliding his elbow onto the bar and propping his chin in his hand.  
“I’ve heard the name around,” Edward pushed his glass away but filled Lawson’s to the brim. “So what does he have to do with Rosey?”  
“Well,” Lawson flourished his hand in the air as if readying to pour out the latest gossip. “He took a shine to her, poor girl. I’m sure you can fill in the blanks of the story. This strapping, handsome man showering a young, naïve girl with kind words and attention, and she just fell right under his spell and right into bed with him. She thought she was in love, was dumb enough to believe he loved her too. Of course, I knew nothing of their affair or I would have stopped it immediately. He was 28 and she was 15, and mixing business with pleasure is always bad for the business end of things. But they were very discreet.” Lawson finished the drink Edward had poured him and refused another.  
“She got pregnant and he, of course, high-tailed it outta here.”  
Edward’s head began to reel but it had nothing to do with the liquor.  
“Rosemary thought it would be a good idea to confront him, so she took a train into the city...” Lawson’s gaze misted over but little emotion was betrayed in his voice. “She said she fell down a flight of stairs but she was lying, trying to protect Mint even after everything he’d put her through.” Lawson took a hard swallow. “They found abrasions and bruises all over her, the worst being an injury to her abdomen. Looked to the doctors like she’d been kicked or stomped on or something like that. She spent almost two weeks in the hospital, and lost the baby, which was probably for the best. They said she’d never be able to carry a pregnancy to term after that.”  
“Jesus, fuck…”  
“Jesus fuck is right,” Lawson said. “When she recovered, I forbid her from ever becoming romantically involved with another consultant. She could date whomever she wanted, but NO MASKS. I threatened her with the only trump card I had, disobey me and I will disown you. It’s the only way I knew to keep her safe.”  
“And keep the money rolling in,” Edward muttered under his breath.  
“What?”  
Edward gave the man a look, daring him to say something, anything to set him off, and Lawson’s eyes grew wide as he stood up and backed away. “Well, I’ve talked your ear off tonight, Comedian. I should probably get to bed.”  
“Yeah, you probably should.” Edward’s tone was flat and hard and he allowed his eyes to stay trained on Lawson as the man made an unsteady exit from the room. When he was finally alone, Edward let out a long breath, grabbing onto the gold railing of the bar and leaning his full weight forward.  
“Rosey,” he whispered.  
Monsters from deep inside him threatened to rise. Huge, terrifying creatures that were too strong, even for him, to subdue with physical force. But Edward knew how to appease them. He had been doing it since he was a kid.  
He allowed them to feast on his anger.  
Standing up straight, the Comedian barreled toward Rosey’s desk at the back of the ballroom. He sat down in her chair, twisting the switch on the desk lamp and yanking the drawer open to find a pad of paper. He grabbed a pen, flipping the cover of the notebook and finding his rage diminishing at the sight of a large, curved heart drawn in red ink on the first page. A thin arrow pierced through it at an upward angle and inside Rosey had written his name in some lovely, vintage script. She’d sealed her drawing with a kiss, leaving a full, perfect print of her dark-coral lipstick over one curved edge of the red heart. Edward ran his fingertip over the ghosted form of her lips and couldn’t help but smile. He wanted to go straight up to her bed, but that would have to wait. He had something he needed to do first.  
Picking up the receiver on the black telephone, Edward dialed a number. He tore a piece of paper from the tablet, being certain to place the pad back in exactly the same place he’d found it.  
A few rings sounded, then there was a click on the other end of the line.  
“Jonesy, hey, it’s Blake…How ya doin’? Fantastic…Huh? Oh not yet. I’m expecting a call any day now. Uh-huh, listen, I need a location on two targets…Are ya ready? The first is a James Keelin Doan. Born in the late 30s, try inside the city first. No. It’s Kilo Echo Echo…Yeah, Keelin. Might’ve gone into an orphanage around 1940…What do you mean they’re sealed? Well, un-fucking-seal them…” Edward seized the paper up in a hurry when the man began to speak. “That sounds promising. Xavier Home for Boys. That’s got to be him. What?” He took the receiver from his ear and tightened his grip until his knuckles grew pale. He lowered his head and frowned before he finally placed the phone back so he could hear. “Pneumonia, was it? Fuck. That is not the news I wanted to hear, old pal. Yeah. No, I know his sister. Fuck. Well, it was worth a shot.” Edward shook the revelation from his mind and continued. “The next one is a Peter Raleigh; alias Mint Raleigh, alias Striker, alias Paul Ford…Queens? Yeah, that’s the one.” He scribbled down the address. “Great. Hey, I appreciate it Jonesy. Ha! Aw. You know I got me a sweet little piece up here. All I gotta do is walk into the room and her clothes fall off.” Edward chuckled then stood, shoving the piece of paper into a secret, zippered compartment in one of the straps on his uniform. “Thanks for everything, man. Tell the wife hi and give that kid a’ yours a punch on the arm from me. Yep. See ya.”

Edward stomped out of the ballroom, heading directly for the front door. He would have made it too, had he not stopped at the bottom of the red carpeted stairs and looked up to the second floor, toward Rosey’s room. His hand strayed to the leather strap on the harness running in a wide, horizontal line across his chest. He wanted to kill Mint Raleigh…and he wanted to do it slow. He wanted to hear the sickening crunch of his bones and feel the tendons and muscles and wet insides of the man give way as he stomped the worthless life out of him, leaving only Mint’s throat untouched, so he could beg and plead for Edward to stop. He wanted to watch the man’s eyes as the spark of life finally drained away, and the horror in them when Edward told him why he deserved to die. “Rosemary Doan,” he would say, and Mint would know he had trifled with the wrong girl, and that nothing awaited him but hell and the torment of having to own up to his wasted, miserable, nothing life.  
But, as bad as Edward wanted to kill Mint, there was something in that moment he wanted even more. He started climbing the steps, wondering at his decisions and cursing the hold this woman seemed to have over him. He shook his head hard, forcing his thoughts away and breaking into a run down the hall to fling open her door. She sat up in the half light of the hallway as it poured into her room, her cheeks shimmering with the tears she’d shed in her lonely moments away from him.  
“Edward.” Her voice creaked and cracked over his name and she wiped her face with the back of her hand, pulling up the sheet to cover herself in some defense of her forever breaking heart.  
The man shut the door and walked in measured steps toward the bed, stripping out of his uniform and crawling under the covers so he could feel her soft skin pressed and gliding against his. He touched her face, his thumbs swiping away fresh tears as they spilled down her cheeks.  
“Don’t cry, Rosey. Everything’s gonna be okay,” he whispered between showered kisses. “You can trust me on that one.”  
As she flung her arms around his shoulders Edward let out a long breath, a feeling of relief overtaking him as her love quieted the churning ire of his demons.  
“Promise?” she asked, her voice fragile and pleading like a child’s.  
“I promise.” Edward held her close and closed his eyes, nestling into the crook of her neck and wondering who he was trying to convince more with the utterance of such an impossible vow:  
His sweet, little Rosey……or himself.


	5. Fill Me With Your Poison

Edward placed his arm beneath his head, staring up at the stars as a cigar dangled from the left corner of his mouth. He adjusted his back on the ramshackle bed of cushions he and Rosey had pilfered from the lounge chairs on the rooftop, and with a long exhale, Edward settled in to the peacefulness of the night. Everything was so silent up here, he thought, nothing like the city, and he often found himself with more room for his mind to wander.

Ten days had passed beyond the eight week mark of his projected leave, and still no call had come from Colonel Kritser about his return to Vietnam. "No need to rent an apartment for such a short amount of time," the squarely built man with the buzzcut had said nearly three months before. "We'll be calling you in the middle of September so just find a nice, quiet place to stay and maybe let off a little steam. There'll be a final push when you come back and we're gonna end this thing on a fucking high note." Edward had it on good authority that the men in charge would be instituting Operation Wrath of God come springtime and summoning Dr. Manhattan to aid in the fight. He laughed when he imagined the enemy throwing up their hands in surrender to a big, blue, swinging dick, but to Edward's surprise, even the prospect of seeing a spectacle like that didn't have him chomping at the bit to return to the action; not because he didn't want to fight, but this being at home shit had started to grow on him.

Tilting his head, he curved his arm up to the tabletop, placing his cigar blindly in the metal ashtray before rolling onto his side and reaching for Rosey. "Hey, ya lush, wake up." Edward put his hand on her bare shoulder and gave a light shake. She smiled but didn't open her eyes.

"I am not asleep nor am I a lush, thank you very much," Rosemary returned, her voice a little thick as he tip-toed his fingertips down the gooseflesh on her arm. "I'm just pleasantly hammered at the moment." She cuddled her cheek against the vinyl cushion and pulled the sheet up to her bare shoulder.

"Hammered, huh?" Edward asked, tugging the cover back down to her hips. "Are you talkin' about the drink or my expert skills at fucking?" Edward positioned himself to take a tickling bite of her side until her eyes popped open and she sparked a look at him.

"Both. And oooooh, that gives me an idea. We need to change your name on the roster." Curving the thin sheet around her waist she sat up, raising her hand as a slight breeze blew through her blonde hair. "From henceforth you shall no longer be known as the Comedian but as the much more apt moniker, Captain Bang!, exclamation point."

He laughed out loud before grabbing her up and landing her in a straddle over his thighs. "I have an exclamation point for you." He bent his knees, sliding her toward him as he glided his hands up her back. Rosemary's slick sex came to rest flush against his cock and Edward flinched, lowering his eyelids. "Mm, this is much better," he said, entwining his fingers into her hair.

"Oh Captain Bang!, you are a dirty dog." She bounced a little on his lap, causing him to grit his teeth.

"And you're my sweet, slutty little pussycat." Edward caught her starlit gaze and she smiled. He kept his eyes intent on Rosemary's face and when she came in for a kiss, he captured her flushed cheeks in his hands and stopped her, giving a quick taste of his open mouth to appease her want of him.

Faceless encounters were Edward's usual preference when it came to women, and he considered it his patriotic duty to give it good and hard to every single one that was willing to slide out of her clothes. A man like him could always find pussy but after the deed was done, Edward was forever left wanting the same thing: for the woman to just disappear. Rosey had turned out to be an exception to this rule and Edward had taken to memorizing her face in their closest moments, wanting to take the memory of her with him when it came time for him to go.

As he watched the stars dancing in her eyes, Edward mulled over the possibilities of any future he may have with her. A part of him wanted to hope they could make a go of it, at least give it a shot, but the rest of him knew the terrible truth. Women he loved were happier without him. Sally and Laurie had proven that, and so had his Mother, God rest her poor soul, and he was certain if he stuck around he would fuck everything up. He wouldn't intend it, it's just what he did. He destroyed things.

Edward lowered his head. The whole thing made his heart ache.

"Baby, what's wrong?" The tone of Rosemary's voice dropped Edward back to earth with a start and she embraced him and cuddled in close. "Where'd you go? You were a million miles away and you looked so sad."

Words eluded him as his painful thoughts still slithered underneath the surface, making him feel defenseless and vulnerable. Anger never failed to follow when he felt such things, the rage burning the hurt into ashes and forcing uncomfortable circumstances, and people who had gotten in too close, far away from him. But in this most of crucial moments, Edward's madness failed him. He searched inside himself for some leverage, some way to get this girl away from him long enough for him to think, but the more he dug into his own dark corners the more pain he found. For once, Edward had no idea what to do and to his absolute humiliation he turned his face away from her and shed a tear.

"Aw, don't hide," Rosey said in a soft, sweet voice, touching his chin with one finger and easing his head around. "You don't have to be big, strong Edward Blake all the time, at least not with me." She kissed his forehead, and his eyelids, and the tip of his nose before moving in and resting her cheek against his. Edward wrapped himself around her and held her tight and she rubbed her hand along his back for a few minutes before speaking. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Oh, fuck no!" he forced a laugh, backing up and locking in his Comedian grin. "Talk about what, the fact that I acted like a fucking nancy? No. I'm perfectly fine never talking about that, ever."

She leaned her forehead against his, her concerned expression unwavered by his smirking mask. "Maybe you're just human after all?"

'Correction, Pussycat," he said, lifting his hand to the table so he could retrieve his cigar and chomp it between his teeth. "That's Captain Bang! to you."

Rosey's countenance relented, allowing him to steer them away from his sadness and into waters where he could better find his direction. She was a class act, his Rosey, and she always knew what to do to make him feel like he'd just single-handedly saved the whole, entire world.

No wonder he cursed the day he'd have to leave her.

Rosey rocked her shoulders, getting his attention as she cast an angled glance up to the sky. "Nope. I don't think so. Captain Bang! would have finished me off by now and been going in for round two." She leered at him, peeking her tongue out from between her lips in a seductive move she had most likely learned from him.

It was very effective.

Edward's cigar tumbled from his mouth and he stared at her before baring his teeth. He pitched forward, pinning her to the cushions with the hard weight of his body and grasping onto the backs of her thighs so he could spread her legs and insert himself between them with a hard writhe of his hips. "Oh, you underestimate me, Rosey," he growled at her as her eyes widened and a jagged, feral grin opened her lips.

"I would never underestimate you, Comedian." She nipped at his lips, shivering a little as the cool, night breeze brushed over their bare skin. Edward reached down, billowing the starched, white sheet over them, the thin cover coming to rest in a light whisper against his back. He came in for a kiss but halted as hazy shadows drifted in, darkening Rosey's pale and fragile beauty. She averted her gaze and Edward thought his sadness might've somehow seeped into her, poisoning her mood and causing her lips to curl down in a pronounced frown.

But when she spoke, the reason for her expression proved to be far different than anything he'd imagined.

"I don't want you to go." Her voice was quiet, and a little broken, and the sentiment made his heart thump a wild beat in his chest.

"You know I have to go, Rosey," he said, his words a little sharp. "Can we not do this? Not right now at least."

"If not now, then when, Edward? When you're already gone?" Her eyes had turned back to his and they shimmered with threatening tears. "When you're a half a world away and I'm stuck here wondering if I'll ever see you again?"

The anger came up suddenly and Edward nearly breathed a sigh of relief. His old, familiar friend hadn't deserted him after all.

"Fuck, I'm coming back for God's sake," he climbed off of her, sitting up and throwing the sheet around in search of something. "It's just a stupid, little war. If I can survive those damn nuns and the fucking streets, running around like a stray dog, I can survive Vietnam. Jesus, fuck! Where's my fucking cigar?"

Rosemary grabbed up the sheet, wrapping it around herself before finding his cigar on the concrete and tossing it at his chest. The light tap as it hit him caused him to glare at her.

"I didn't think you were going to die," she spat. "The thought hadn't even crossed my mind but thank you so much for introducing that possibility into the mix." She stood and moved to the small, metal table, taking a full swig from a bottle of gin before pointing her finger at him. "I won't kid myself anymore, Edward, this whole thing was over before it even started. Hell, we can't even be seen in public together can we? Me because of Lawson and you because, well fuck, I don't know? I'm not good enough for you?"

"You're fucked up in the head, Rosey, and that happened a long time before I ever came on the scene so you need to watch your fucking lip before it gets you into trouble." He stood up, shoving his legs into his pants and wanting to put some distance between the two of them before things got out of hand. But Rosey just didn't know when to shut her mouth.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" She took another drink before dropping the sheet and swaying as she bent over to pick up her dress. "You don't know anything about me," she muttered as she slinked into the black, silky garment, "and you're a fine one to be throwing around accusations of being fucked up in the head. Oh, I know about you too, Comedian, and if there’s anyone crazy around here, it’s you." ."

Edward hurried at buttoning and zipping his pants and stalked toward her, causing her to skitter backward on her feet. He grabbed her up by the arms and pushed her back against the brick wall, just hard enough to rattle her. Edward bore a look into her surprised gaze as he clung to a few, spindled threads of his self-control. If he stopped himself from hurting her with his hands he would have to hurt her with his words and that would be the end of everything.

Then, she could be free.

"I know you fucked Mint Raleigh. Heard you gave it up to him like a two-bit whore." Rosemary whimpered, her head shaking in frantic denial of what she was hearing. "He beat the shit out of you too when you got pregnant with his kid and you lied to cover it up. Poor, desperate little Rosey."

"Fuck you," she whispered.

"Fuck me. Hm. Seems like you already did. I knew you'd be an easy lay the first time I saw you. Skirts like you always are." He winked and gave her a sly grin as she tried to shake free of his grasp. "Where ya goin', Toots? I'm just getting started." He tightened his grip on her arms and pushed himself against her. "And let's talk about Lawson. Your stand-in daddy since your real father skipped fuckin' town. You might as well have Property of Masks Incorporated tattooed on your ass the way you let that man run your life. A head shrinker might say you got a pattern goin' here, Pussycat."

"You're ruining everything, Edward." The look of hopelessness and betrayal that passed over her face nearly buckled his knees but Edward shored himself up. He had to make it stick. He had to make her hate him because a woman like Rosey would wait on him forever if he didn't shatter her heart. The thought crossed his mind to tell her about James, but Edward didn't have it in him to be that cruel, not to her, not to his Rosey.

In a flash of light his mind landed on the perfect out. The key to the getaway car. He closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself in an attempt to recite his final blow without emotion. "We have no future together. Like you said, we both knew it from the beginning but we just got really good at pretending." He softened his body and loosened his grip, straying his hand to her face to brush away her wind-blown hair. "We're never going to get married, Rosey. We're never going to have a passel of kids running around a pretty green yard with a white picket fence, and I am never going to love you, not the way you want."

Rosemary went limp in his arms and started to cry. He set her on her feet and turned his back, hiding the pained expression on his face that belied every word he'd just uttered. He put on his shoes, gathered the rest of his clothes and moved toward the door.

"Find someone else and fucking forget about me."

The door began to close behind him as he heard her speak his name but he didn't stop. He quickened his steps as he passed through the maze of hallways, throwing on his shirt and jacket as he broke into a gallop. His breath came in short gasps as he ran down the stairs and toward the front door. He'd almost made it, until Lawson stepped out from the parlor and stood between Edward and the exit.

"Eddie, what's the—"

"Get the fuck out of my way, Lawson."

"But—"

The Comedian couldn't breathe, the air was stifling hot and sweat beaded on his skin, trickling down his back as the lack of oxygen made him dizzy and weak in the knees. Without thinking, Edward grabbed Brent by the front of his shirt, lifting the twig of a man off of the ground and hurling him against the wall with a loud thump. He fell to the floor in an unconscious heap and Edward flung the door open, making his way to the shiny, black sedan parked in the arc of the asphalt drive. He grabbed the keys from under the seat, gunning the engine and fishtailing toward the road as Rosemary stood on the rooftop and watched him speed away.

She mumbled her words at first, wishing she could have mustered the courage to say them before he'd left her, determined as he was to be gone and out of her life for good. "I love you," she said, her tears staining shiny paths down her cheeks in the silver moonlight. Her hand raised to her aching heart when the last, red glow of his taillights disappeared into the dark and Rosemary let out a wail. She screamed and cried and shivered against the cold gloom, calling to a man that would forever be too far away to hear her. "Don't go. Please," she begged into the void, "I love you. I love you, Edward Morgan Blake."

 


End file.
